The boy who cried Wolf
by delicate-matters
Summary: A short re-telling of the traditional story. Written with a Gothic style from the P.O.V of the Wolf. Please R&R :


This is my first fic, so enjoy. Please R&R!  
><strong>Warning:<strong> Rated M for themes, just to be safe.

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><p>He is an innocent farm boy, a pale face no more than the age of twelve. His plump lips and rosy cheeks beckon to me, call out, yearning for me. Yum! His job is to guard the sheep at night, lucky me, my vision is clearer at night. I can see his every soft feature from the dirt on his collar bone all the way down to the rips in his dungarees, a delicious sight. Oh and the smell of his sweat trickling down his back and seeing his frail eyelids batter resisting sleep, was simply erotic.<p>

Originally I had come to the field to eat the sheep, as any wolf would, but the moment I spotted him laying on his back in the grass beside the sheep, I was mesmerised. I was no longer hungry for sheep. After that I came back every night and watched him, the way he moved with such innocence and the way his hair ruffled in the breeze. Before I knew it I began fantasizing about him, picturing him bare lying against the grass, the wind caressing his flesh. Then it became serious. I started to picture myself beside him, closer and closer each time, until there was only one blade of grass between us.

Right now I am perched on a branch of a tree that overlooks the field inspecting him. His white neck tempts me to bite it, his graze on his left knee calls at me to lick it clean and his piercing blue eyes invite me to gobble him all up. He called "Dolly' to the closest sheep and stroked its ear, the sheep leans in lovingly. Jealousy raged through me, making me angry, hurt. Then I realised that I wanted, was for him to call my name, loudly, not some dumb sheep's that couldn't satisfy him the way I can. He kept stroking the ewe's ear, he was teasing me, taunting me, daring me and I would accept it. Such teasing needed a good "punishment".

Tonight he would call wolf.

With two pounces I had reached him and in one swift move had pinned him to the ground, his eyes were filled with terror and shock, fine I would play along with this false pretence. A tear fell from his eye as I began to initiate the first part of my "punishment". I always thought he had the body of an actor and obviously the talent too. Since he decided to take the game up a notch I would raise the bar even further, I would play the meanest and most brutal character ever. The night went on and as the tears streamed down his face he refused to cry my name, he is ever so stubborn, until the moon rose directly ahead did his high voice pierce the silence: "WOLF!" he screamed. I heard the village stir and slipped away into the night, leaving the boy bruised and with tears down his face; it was his fault he had insisted on playing this little game.

I returned every night for the next week and each time the scenario was the same. It was exciting and passionate, he would cry "wolf!" and the villagers would come running, they would find him tears pouring from his eyes and cut or bitten but they didn't care, they didn't see me so they called him liar and cheat and cursed him in every way possible. They were cruel to him. Although he called "Wolf!" every night the villagers always came too early and I was always left unsatisfied.

But tonight was different, no matter how many times he called "Wolf!" the villagers did not come, he wailed and yelled my name over a hundred times, but still no one came. Finally the sun arose and I was satisfied. I looked down at the boy and found him unmoving, like a porcelain doll. I removed my hand from his tiny neck and realised that I had crushed it. What a shame! The villagers were to blame, if they had appeared they would have saved the boy, their ignorance and cruelty killed him not I. I stared at the naked body of the shepherd boy for what seemed like hours and once my eyes had had their fill, I shared the rest of him out to my stomach. Yum!

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><p>Delicate-matters.<p> 


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